


Marks

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto mishears a tagline.





	Marks

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“_You’re mine!_”

Prompto’s physically jerked back—a massive fist has locked around his arm, and it tosses him easily aside like he weighs nothing. Prompto stumbles out of the way as the beast runs past him, wide-eyed and dazed, because he’s pretty sure that Gladiolus just growled out some feral ownership like Prompto’s the prize in a cage match. Then he watches Gladiolus’ enormous sword slice the daemon they’re fighting in two, and it erupts in a haze of red/black smoke.

Gladiolus straightens out of his blow. He hikes his sword over his shoulder, smirking triumphantly. A second to catch his breath, and he lets his weapon dissipate into the ether. When he turns back towards Prompto, his hair catches in the sun, and the golden light slides down his thick chest to highlight every curve and muscle. For that few seconds, Prompto’s mesmerized. He stares blankly at Gladiolus’ abs, glistening with just the faintest layer of sweat. Gladiolus looks inhumanly _sexy_. And he just claimed Prompto for his own, apparently.

Gladiolus’ lips are moving. Prompto vaguely hears: “What?”

Prompto’s head snaps up. Gladiolus lifts a brow and checks, “You okay?”

Prompto’s dry mouth closes. He swallows. He realizes that he’s blushing, and that Gladiolus was definitely _not_ talking about him. Clearly, the _kill_ was Gladiolus’. Not Prompto himself. There was nothing to get all distracted by and worked up about. They’re not going to have hot victory sex right there on the dirt.

Prompto feels like an idiot and insists, “Y... yeah! I’m great!”

He can hear Noctis and Ignis sauntering over, evidently finished with their own prey. Gladiolus doesn’t look convinced that Prompto didn’t sustain a head wound. 

Prompto splutters, “Onto the next one! Woo!” And he heads the party off in a new direction.


End file.
